


Cloudburst Love

by goldbooksblack



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, NYC, nyc au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldbooksblack/pseuds/goldbooksblack
Summary: It's raining, and all Elide wants to do is go home.





	Cloudburst Love

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the photo below by Ryan McGinley, and partially on [this apartment listing](https://streeteasy.com/building/170-west-74-street-new_york/1009).
> 
> I am a native New Yorker, but I have to confess that I'm not a resident of New York City. I live quite close by, though, and I've always loved it. Hopefully this fic does it some justice.

It was cold and wet in New York City.

Elide Lochan rubbed her eyes as she entered the elevator in her office building on 8th and 58th, lifting a limp hand to press the “L.” Columbus Circle, she sighed to others for simplicity’s sake when they asked her where she worked. Although she often felt as if her life was too dull to claim the bustling roundabout for herself.

She had seen and heard the rain from her office building on the twelfth floor, the incessant pounding slamming against her brain. Not to mention her boss’s screeches that she was working too slowly for the company to stop and wait. She did not dare tell him that it would be the company’s fault if they decided to stagnate and wait for a mere secretary. Elide may have hated her job, but it paid well, and she wasn’t about to complain.

Not when she had just scrabbled together enough money to leave her uncle and his dark alleyways to join her friends in Manhattan.

Still, her heart constricted every time she entered work, dutifully saying her good morning’s to the building greeters and settling down at her desk for hours upon hours of paperwork. “You’re lucky to even have a desk before your five-year mark,” confessed an older co-worker. So yes, she did have things to be grateful for. But she couldn’t help but feel a film of resentment over her mind constantly; stuck in a dull office building, working a 9-to-5 and then some when she took evening college classes. To mend all that she had lost before she had moved.

“You’re young yet,” another co-worker once admonished, motherly and kind. “You’ll have many other chances.”

Elide slipped across the lobby of her building, hand reaching to push the pane of revolving door before stopping. And remembering that she had no—

She let out a small groan, and didn’t bother looking through her bag for an umbrella. She could see it now, her only umbrella—in the umbrella holder that Aelin had gifted her. At home.

It was the one thing she had bothered to organize in her new apartment.

Her ankle ached with the thought of walking out and around Columbus Circle to get to the 1 train, and then getting off and walking the rest of the way to her apartment. And being crowded on the subway car with dozens of other cranky, soaked New Yorkers. She stared desperately outside, watching fellow umbrella-less people dash by, using folders and jackets as makeshift tarp above their heads, to no avail.

Elide sighed as she made up her mind. Money was tight, especially after buying the new apartment, but it was one rainy day. In heels that she had misguidedly thought she could wear without completely shattering her ankle.

Copying those whom she had just witnessed, she ran outside, shivering as the cold rain splashed onto her body. She stepped towards the curb—ignoring the rush of pedestrians pushing past her—and held out a steady hand into the road. Sure enough, a yellow taxi came rushing in.

She slid into the backseat, eyes carefully noting the license and photograph of the driver. An old habit, to be on her guard. One she would never shake. “170 West 74th Street, please.”

The driver didn’t even bother confirming the address before eagerly joining the fleet of cars currently stuck around the pillar in the center of the island.

Elide leaned against the window of the taxi, staring out at the rain-distorted image of the city. She had stayed late; it was already nearing eight-thirty. She longed for food, and a shower, and sleep. The golden glow of streetlamps shone through the raindrops, and Elide let herself close her eyelids as she felt the light on her face.

“Here?”

Elide peered through the window. “Could you turn right to the building with the scaffolding in front?”

The driver acquiesced. Sighing—more out of weariness than at the sight of so much money being spent on a drive that could have easily costed $2.75 if she hadn’t been so lazy—she handed him ten dollars and watched him fumble with the change.

The rain had not lessened its torment of the city when Elide stepped out onto the sidewalk and ducked into the building, saying a quick hello to the doorman and resisting the urge to shake out her damp hair.

Her new apartment building was a far cry from the crumbling, run-down co-op that she had occupied in a shadier location in Brooklyn. Now, she could commute to work in a matter of minutes, walk outside without worrying (too much) about crime, and come home to an always-lit lobby with a friendly greeter always on hand. The price had been steep: $2,900. But the day she had finally signed the lease, she had felt such incredible freedom that she hadn’t thought twice about doling out huge sums of money to pay rent.

The elevator doors thrummed shut as she pressed the button for the seventh floor. She couldn’t wait to get home, to be able to slam her apartment door shut and collapse on the couch (the other piece of furniture that she had bothered to take out, aside from that damned umbrella holder). #1009 lay at the end of the hall, but Elide was too overcome with relief and joy to feel the ache in her legs as she made the trek.

Keys inserted, lock clicking, door swinging open. And at long last, Elide was home.

She sniffed gently in the air. Was that pasta? Did—

“Elide?”

She couldn’t contain the brilliant smile that broke over her face as her fiancé came into view. God, he was so handsome, a sight for truly sore eyes. He was still dressed in a button-down and dress pants from work, although his sleeves were rolled up casually. “Hi.”

He came forward, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Hi.” He eyed her soaked hair and jacket. “Did you walk home in the rain?”

“No. I took a taxi,” she said, a bit guiltily.

But he only nodded. “Wouldn’t want you slipping in the rain.”

“Did you really cook?” She murmured, dropping her bag to the floor and wrapping her arms around Lorcan’s waist. Her eyes closed as she pressed herself against his chest, inhaling his scent of citrus. It never failed to calm her.

“Yeah. I made pasta.”

“I love you.”

She could feel him smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His voice softened. “I love you too, Elide.” He straightened. “Ready to eat?”

She followed him through their apartment—and paused. “You . . . you unpacked everything?” Awe. Complete awe and undiluted warmth flooded her voice as she stared out at the living room. It had been bare (save for one solitary sofa) when she had left in the morning. Now it was fully decorated; a mix of her things and Lorcan’s. Her coffee table, his coffee table books. His painting, her throw pillows.

“I called in late to work and got rid of most of the boxes. All of our kitchen stuff is still somewhere in the back, but—”

He was cut off by his tiny fiancée bursting up and pressing her lips to his. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him down. Lorcan smiled against her lips, his hands coming to rest low on her hips. Elide felt so safe, so loved. By this gigantic mountain of a man, who, just a little over a year ago, would have never done any of this.

Lorcan lifted her up, her legs coming to wrap around his waist. She broke away to look at him. “Did you set up the bedroom too?”

His answer was a devilish smirk, and Elide let out a small giggle as he carried them to their new bed, their dinner left forgotten in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on Tumblr: [goldbooksblack](https://goldbooksblack.tumblr.com/)


End file.
